


Take A Slice

by CactusPot



Category: Total Drama (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Corpses, Gen, TDWritersLoveandFriendshipWeek21, Unspecified Setting, i dont consider this explicitly gorey but thats subjective ig, mildly dystopian, yeah there's like a dead guy but no explicit depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29409006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CactusPot/pseuds/CactusPot
Summary: “You’re the only one that can help me, Jo. I’ve got a body.”Her scowl shifted from anger to disgust. “Are you kidding me?”“D’you think I’d be here if I was? Listen, you’re strong enough to help me bury it, and you’re not gonna go squealing to the law.”Her lip curled. “You’re even more twisted than I thought.”~~~Written for TD Love and Friendship Week
Relationships: Duncan & Jo (Total Drama)
Kudos: 12





	Take A Slice

It only took three rocks for Duncan to summon Jo to her window.

“What the heck are you doing?” she demanded, squinting into the darkness.

“Keep it down!” He fixed her with a pointed stare. “I need help with something.”

“Well you’re not getting any from me. It’s two in the morning, Numbskull.”

She was right, and that was the problem. He couldn’t stand at her window arguing all night. “You’re the only one that can help me, Jo. I’ve got a body.”

That revelation did the trick. Her scowl shifted from anger to disgust. “Are you kidding me?”

“D’you think I’d be here if I was? Listen, you’re strong enough to help me bury it, and you’re not gonna go squealing to the law.”

Her lip curled. “You’re even more twisted than I thought.” Jo disappeared into her room. As he waited, Duncan tapped his bare, blood-splattered foot against the grass. He’d abandoned his shoes hours ago. In retrospect, maybe that hadn’t been the best decision.

Jo slammed the door open and shut and marched over to him. No hoodie, just a black tank top and a pitiful excuse of a ponytail.

“Okay.” She folded her arms. “What are we working with?”

“You got gloves?” 

“No, I don’t have gloves. I don’t make it my business to bury bodies every week.”

“Chill, whatever. We’ll need a shovel, though.”

“What, is it my job to supply you with everything you need?” Jo was pissed. Obviously. Duncan would’ve preferred if she checked the attitude, but some things were too much to ask for.

She retreated to her backyard, and Duncan followed her. She scrounged through the shed and came up with a plain old rusty shovel.

“Perfect.” Duncan snatched it from her. “Let’s move.”

“Woah, Grabby.” Jo snatched it right back. “I’m holding my own junk.”

“Don’t trust me?” He tossed a smirk at her.

“Do you _want_ me to answer that?” Jo followed him at a close distance. “More importantly, how ‘bout you answer some stuff for me.”

“Such as?” They were off her property now, heading further into the woods that lined the neighborhood.

“Like did you kill it? And how? And _why_? And _where_?”

Duncan sighed. “That’s a lot of questions, sweetheart.” Too late he realized what he’d said. By then, Jo was gripping his wrist so hard he was half-certain his hand would pop off.

“I am doing you a _favor_ ,” she growled. “Don’t start with the cutesy pet names.”

“Was an accident, I swear.” Duncan wriggled his hand. “I’ll trade you some answers for my wrist back, please.”

Jo let go. He massaged his wrist. _No more pet names_ , he willed his brain. Not if he didn’t want to join the dead guy in the afterlife.

“Okay, he was stabbed to death.” Duncan pushed past some low-hanging branches. He was just now realizing that hadn’t been smart about this. “Crap, where are we?”

“Who killed him?”

“Hold on.” He squinted into the darkness. “I don’t know where we are.”

“Well figure it out, Duncan Dahmer.”

He whirled around, unsmiling. “First of all, that was a good one. It would work, except for the fact I didn’t kill this guy. And second of all, let’s nix the chatter so I can figure out where we’re going!”

Jo’s scathing response was drowned out by a loud rumble. They both turned their heads to the sky as a missile arced overhead. They were routine these days, but Duncan always found them fascinating to watch. A beautiful premonition of destruction, that’s what they were.

The missile disappeared from sight; moments later a _boom_ caused them both to flinch. Miles away, some metropolitan buildings had just met their match.

Jo turned back to Duncan. Her usual grim face was even grimmer. “Dead guy isn’t connected to the strikes, right?”

“Could be.” Duncan shrugged before turning back to the task at hand: figuring out where the heck to go. “Should’ve brought a flashlight, damnit.”

“Why didn’t you _say_ so?” 

Duncan turned as Jo fished a mini flashlight out of her shorts’ pocket and, in his relief, he almost smiled. “You’re a lifesaver, Jo.”

“Yeah, well. When you spend five years hangin’ around a lieutenant, you pick up a few tricks.” There was a distant look in her eyes as she handed over the flashlight. “I don’t leave home without the essentials.”

Duncan left the conversation at that. He shined the light across the forest floor, searching for any kind of clue that could point them in the right direction.

“Aha!” Blood patterned a rock a little way to the right. “Thank _you_ , bloody feet!”

“Gross,” Jo quipped as she followed him.

Apparently, she’d decided to hold off on the questions, because they trekked in silence for the next half hour. Duncan kept the flashlight trained on the ground, following the trail of blood he’d accidentally left. Jeez, hopefully it rained in the next few days and any last evidence would be washed away. 

“Y’know, when you told me you ‘had a body’, that sorta implied the body was with you,” Jo said, breaking the silence. “Not an hour south.”

“Okay, well pardon me for not being more specific,” Duncan said. “We’re getting closer.” His gaze flicked around. “He died beside a river.”

“Were you there when he kicked the bucket?”

Duncan nodded. “Does it matter?”

“Stop walking.” Jo’s hand clamped down on his shoulder. They both paused, and Duncan sensed it was in his best interests not to question her.

It was dead silent, nearly pitch black, and anyone who hadn’t been through the prison system and served in the guerilla forces would likely have gone insane immediately.

Wait. As Duncan’s ears adjusted to the silence, he heard a new sound: a low, comforting rush.

“Running water,” Jo said confidently. “Maybe you didn’t lead us astray after all.”

Duncan’s grip tightened on the flashlight as they crept forward carefully. Apparently, they weren’t careful enough, and Duncan nearly tripped into the river. 

“Aah!”

The shovel thudded to the ground as Jo grabbed his arm. Duncan’s vision swam with the sight of jagged rocks poking out of the black water.

“You’re not dying on me tonight, Jailbird.”

“Thanks.” With her help, he righted himself and took a deliberate step back from the water. “I knew there was a reason I brought you along.”

“Was my sarcastic wit and physical prowess not enough?” Jo picked the shovel up and used it to gesture around. “Alright, where’s the guest of honor?”

Minutes passed with no sound but that of twigs crunching underfoot as they surveyed the riverbank. The body had to be around here somewhere. Unless it had been moved already; Duncan didn’t want to think about the implications of that. That corpse was his responsibility. His and Jo’s now.

“Hey!” Jo barked. “Found ‘im.”

He crossed the yard between them and together they stood and stared. Rigor mortis yet hadn’t set in, so the body lay limp before them 

It was a guy, white, slightly older than Duncan. His mouth hung open, several teeth knocked loose. Along with jeans, the cadaver wore a tattered long-sleeved shirt. Its color was unknown to Duncan because blood covered just about every inch of it. Earlier, Duncan had counted seven wounds. Upon closer inspection, he realized the number was actually upwards of ten.

“What—”

He nudged her shovel-wielding arm. “Alright, let’s get digging.”

Jo wrinkled her nose. “You promised me explanations, Stabby.”

“And you promised _me_ you’d help me bury the body.”

She handed him the shovel. “You break ground.”

So Duncan did. He shoved the shovel into the dirt with all his might. It dented. Scoop. Scoop. Scoop. It was slow work, especially since they were in the middle of the woods. Rocks and roots hindered his progress.

At some point, Duncan looked up to the sight of Jo crouched over, manhandling the body. “Jo!” he hissed.

She dropped the guy’s hand. “ _What_?”

“You’re _touching it_?”

“I’m just looking for answers.” There was already blood on her face; she wiped at it, but that only made it smear worse. “Turns out _somebody_ already picked the guy’s pockets.”

“I’m a criminal, you can hardly blame me.” He turned back to the digging. “And anyway, you’re gonna catch hepatitis if you keep messing around in his blood like that.”

“I’ll be fine.” She sat back.

“Take it from the dude who sat through five years of prison and another five in battle: bloodborne pathogens are no joke.”

“Thanks for the concern, Doctor Dunc. But I’m gonna touch him anyways when I drag him into his crappily-made grave, so I don’t see why that matters. While we’re on the subject, you suck at grave-digging.”

He knew an opportunity when he saw one. “It’s all yours, swee—Jo.”

She swiped the shovel from his grip and attacked the ground as if it had personally offended her. Duncan sat beside the body and watch it decay, conscious of the bloody wallet that sat in his pocket.

“Havin’ fun?” he asked after she hit another rock.

“Time of my life.” Jo wiped her brow and kept going. He figured this was just another routine workout for her. Except instead of running a 5k or slamming a punching bag, she had walked an hour through the woods so she could til soil.

She should be thanking him, honestly.

They switched off every so often, usually when Jo complained about hand cramps. Duncan would take over for ten minutes max while she walked around, wringing her wrists and kicking the body.

“Why can’t we just toss ‘im into the river?”

“Identification,” Duncan grunted as he hacked his way through a root. He looked over at the body. “This might go faster if we dismembered him.”

“Left my bonesaw at home,” Jo said dryly. “Gimme that.” She took the shovel back from him.

At the end of it all, Duncan wasn’t sure how long they’d been out there, only that he counted two more missiles passing overhead and that the sky had faded from inky black to slightly-less-inky dark blue. That’s when he declared the hole sufficient.

“ _Finally._ You grab his feet, I’ll take his head.” Jo wrapped her hands around the guy’s neck, and Duncan did the same to his ankles. From her tightened grip, he suspected this was at least somewhat cathartic for her.

Together, they dragged the dead dude over to the grave. On the count of three, they tossed it in. _Thump_. Duncan swore he heard a bone crack.

Jo was back at work immediately, shoveling dirt back over the dude’s face, suffocating him even after death.

He was gonna miss her. “Thanks for the help, Jo.”

Paused for a moment, she turned and faced him. The drying blood on her cheek cracked as a smirk split across her face. “What are friends for?”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask me what this is. I wanted to write something A) different and B) pertaining to Jo and Duncan, bc they should've been friends in All Stars. Anyways, theme was Alternate Universe. This is alternate, alright.


End file.
